Loving The Enemy
by Lollipop456
Summary: AU. A revamp of my fic "A Story To Live For." Leslie Newton has no idea that attempting to catch the villain, just may be the worst mistake she has ever made. CranexOC
1. Chapter 1

Leslie Newton, a young reporter for Gotham's finest newspaper, was sitting at her desk and typing up a new article. One about Gotham's latest mob boss, Carmine Falcone. Her best friend and fellow reporter, Michael West came by her desk.

"How's the Falcone story coming along?"

"Oh, it's coming. How's the weather?"

"In Gotham? Always rainy as usual."

"Charming."

"Think you can finish it up in a few ticks?"

"Just one more sentence."

As soon as Leslie finished the final sentence in her article, she could see that her coffee mug was rattling. Leslie held it still with her hand, in order to keep it from spilling. Judging by the rattling, she knew her that her boss was heading for his door. As usual, it seemed like he was in a rather foul mood. The door to his office opened, Leslie turned her head to see him. He was a rather heavy man, he was also completely bald, you would probably mistake him for a mob member if he did not carry identification.

"Newton, get in here!"

"Yes, Mr.Feldman."

Leslie got up from her desk and stepped into the office.

"Shut the door, Newton."

"Yes sir."

Leslie shut the door to the office and sat down in a chair. Mr. Feldman laid a paper from last week out on his desk. Leslie could see her last article about Doctor Jonathan Crane was front and center.

"How many times do I have to see this shit, Newton? You are throwing the people a bunch of lies!"

"How can we be sure that my article isn't true?"

"You are throwing an innocent pyschiatrist under the bus. You have no evidence to prove he is connected to the mob."

"Not true. My article says that I have the testimony of a DA member that says that Crane is rightfully accused of having some form of connection to the mob and Falcone."

"Who on the DA said that?"

"My friend, Rachel Dawes."

"Your friend? Not a complete stranger?"

"Listen. I know this seems a bit insane, but both me and Rachel and probably a hundred civilians have every right to suspect Crane."

"Do you realize what would happen if Crane was innocent? The newspaper would shut down for feeding lies, and we would know exactly who to blame."

There was a silence, before Mr.Feldman continued.

"Have you written up the next article?"

"Yes, sir. It's about Falcone's crimes."

"Praise be. You finally talk some sense."

Leslie ran to her desk and grabbed her imprinted article and handed it to Mr.Feldman. He scanned over it before slamming it down on the table.

"For God's sake, Leslie. You've mentioned Crane's name several times in the article!"

"Listen, sir. I have no evidence to back my suspicion, but we don't exactly have evidence that says he is innocent either. All I want to do is to be sure that Gotham watches out."

"That's not your job, Newton. That's for the police to handle. You are a reporter."

"I'm also a citizen who wants to be sure that our streets safe!"

"I swear, Newton. If you don't print facts, then you are off the paper and I'll be sure that nobody in Gotham ever prints your thilf."

Leslie stormed out of the office, she did not even say goodbye to Michael. Leslie knew she had to get away from it all. She went back to her apartment and took a hot shower and then decided to watch some television before going to bed. She turned it to GCN and watched the latest news story. The reporter was a male, with grey hair and and a rather long beard.

_I am standing outside Gotham General where two more policemen have just been reported dead. After having been shot down by two men wearing black. The suspects have been interrogated and have confessed to being connected with mob lord, Carmine Falcone. Ladies and gentleman, I must ask, how much more can Gotham stand of Falcone before it blows itself to pieces? Earlier today, I talked with Doctor Jonathan Crane, a pyschiatrist at Arkham Asylum. He only had to say that Falcone is mentally unstable and should be sent to Arkham for immediate evaluation. I'll have more on that later to-_

Leslie switched off the TV and shook her head in disbelief.

"Unstable my ass."

Leslie heard her phone ring, she ran to answer it. On the other line, was Rachel.

"Did you just hear the report?" Rachel asked.

"You bet."

"I swear, Leslie. Somebody has to take Falcone down. I don't care if they shoot him."

Leslie suddenly began observing the dresses that hung in her closet, she stroked them with her fingers.

"People will never believe us about Crane."

"Don't worry, Rach. I have a feeling that's gonna change."


	2. Chapter 2

Leslie woke up the next morning, she was late getting up as usual. It happened to be one of her worse habits. When she woke up, she immetidately turned her TV on to GCN. She could see Crane getting interviewed by the same reporter on last night's episode.

_"Doctor Crane, would you say that Falcone's mental health might have alot to do with his constant violent actions?"_

_"Often, I have had patients, that have been known to suffer violent spells. Mr.Falcone is no different than those you see locked up at Arkham Aslyum."_

_"You condone his actions, Doctor Crane?"_

_"I only believe that his actions are a result of a mental illness."_

_"So he belongs in Arkham?"_

_"Yes, he does. I have tried on more than one occasion to place Mr.Falcone inside Arkham's ward."_

Leslie, who was watching the interview from her closet, she looked nicer than she usually did. Not often did she wear her hair up, but this was an emergency.

"Sorry Crane. You're having your ass thrown in jail."

Leslie went into her work building, where she saw that Crane was about to leave. Leslie sighed and walked past him, deliberately bumping him. She dropped all her papers over the floor.

"Are you okay?" Crane asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. I always do this kind of thing."

"Well, let me help."

Crane helped Leslie gather back up her papers and handed them to her.

"You're Doctor Crane. The pyschiatrist from Arkham."

"And you're Leslie Newton. The brilliant reporter who has published quite a few articles about me."

"Just doing my job, Doctor Crane. I don't have anything personal against you."

"I beg to differ."

There was a beat, before Crane finally spoke.

"Anyway, if you're all right. Then, I guess I'll-"

"Actually. I was wondering if you and me could talk. Maybe tonight? I just need to clear a few things up for an article."

"Well, actually. I have a patient of mine who-"

"Not even dinner?"

"All right. Only dinner and a few questions. When should I pick you up?"

"Seven?"

"Sounds nice. It was nice to meet you, Miss Newton."

"Thank you, Doctor Crane."

After they parted ways, Leslie went about her mission. She got her work done early and then went back to her apartment to get ready. Sadly, Leslie hardly had any dresses in her closet, she basically had blouses and skirts. She finally found a dress she only wore on one occasion, her cousin's wedding. It was a sleeveless pink dress with glitter sprinkled all over it, Leslie slipped her dress on and then focused on doing her hair and makeup. She got her red hair into a bun that was placed at the top of her head and then put on some lipstick and some blush.

"All right, Crane. Time for some one and one."

Leslie stepped out of her room and saw Crane sitting on her couch, nervously playing with his thumbs. He seemed astonished at the sight of Leslie.

"You look wonderful." Crane said.

"Thanks."

"Shall we?"

Crane offered his arm to Leslie and she took it. He escorted her outside and to his car, which was rather clean. Crane drove them to an Italian resteraunt, where they both ate and drank.

"How old are you, Miss Newton?" Crane asked.

"Twenty. I've been working at the paper since I was fifteen."

"Fifteen? You don't consider that too young?"

"No. It was actually an exciting job for me. It's hard to find a job when you're fifteen in the first place, to get one at the paper is even better."

"Your parents approved?"

"Actually, my parents died when I was young. When I was four."

"I'm sorry. How did it happen?"

"I don't really remember. When we were driving home, I was in my carseat. Some bastard came out of nowhere and...Guess you can tell the rest."

"Who raised you?"

"My Uncle. Real sweet guy."

"I can see that."

"Listen, Crane, I'm suppose to be asking YOU the questions."

"Please, Miss Newton, I'm all ears."

"Do you have any idea why Rachel Dawes would lie about her testimony?"

"Miss Dawes is a smart woman. I have no reason to oppose her testimony."

"Even if it can get you thrown into jail?"

Crane sighed and laid back in his seat, he removed his glasses.

"There is one thing you have to realize, Miss Newton. It doesn't matter how many articles you publish, it doesn't matter if you write an entire expose on me. Because, there is always a stronger power than the so-called Power of the Press. It's called money."

"Do you mean to say that you would be willing to pay Mr.Feldman if he refused to publish my article about your crimes?"

"You are a very bright woman, Miss Newton."

"You also happen to be the most insane pyschartrist I have ever met. You know, there was one point in my life when I actually respected you. You were the famous Doctor Jonathan Crane, a terrific pyschartrist whose patients have gone onto to do very good things. Then, you met Falcone, and did a complete three sixty."

"I admire your personality, Leslie. It's that kind of attitude that will keep you out of trouble."

"You are very bad at acting, Mr.Crane. I hate you. You hate me."

"It sounds like you hate my crimes."

"Don't be a smartass."

"How can you be so sure that I'm guilty? What proof do you have?"

"I have the testimony of Rachel Dawes."

"Now I can see why Feldman wants to fire your ass."

"How do you know my job is in trouble?"

"I make it my habit to know everything about people who try to get rid of me."

"I'm not trying to get rid of you, Crane. I'm just trying to be sure that I print the truth about you and Falcone. Hopefully, my articles will help you find a comfy spot in jail."

"Out of curiousity. If you wanted the truth, then why not interview me? Why take me out to dinner?"

"Because I know you, Crane. I know that you wouldn't sit down for any type of interview if it meant telling the truth."

"If you knew that me well then you would know that I would've been pleased to be interviewed. Instead, you chose a date-"

"This is NOT a date, Crane!"

"Then what is it?"

"It's just two strangers sitting down and eating and drinking and talking. Which, in a real world, would classified as...a date."

There was a small silence, Leslie got up from the table.

"Screw dinner. I'm going home to type up every word you just said."

Leslie started heading for the door, when she realized she had no way to get home.

"Do you need a ride, Miss Newton?" Crane asked.

"I would rather walk."

"Your apartment is five miles away."

"Fine. I'll grab a taxi."

"Finding a taxi in Gotham, is almost like finding a needle in a haystack."

Crane opened the door to his car. Leslie rolled her eyes and got into the car. Halfway down the road, she realized that she wasn't going home.

"Where are we going?" Leslie asked.

"A special place."

Leslie knew she had to get out of the car, she tried to open the door but discovered it was lock.

"Unlock the door, Crane."

"Relax. I'll let you out when we reach the school."

"The school?"

Crane pulled up to Gotham High. He let Leslie out of the car and then led her to the school's front doors.

"You want to know the real Jonathan Crane? You want to know why a good man can be seen around bastards like Falcone?"

"I'm not so sure anymore."

"I insist."

Crane opened the doors to the school, and led Leslie down the dark hallways. He then opened another door and shut on the lights, revealing a huge gynasium.

"THIS is the real Jonathan Crane."

"It's a gynasisum. Your life is a school gym?"

"In your article, you said that 'A time will come in Gotham. Where good will become evil.' This is where I became evil. This very gym."

"What happened?"

"It was my senior prom. My date, Lindsay, she had this boyfriend who wasn't very fond of me. We got into a fight and he pulled a knife out. I got it from him and I killed him. I had blood all over my clothes and hands, while everyone just stood there and laughed at me. Lindsay ran to get the police. I had never seen blood before, and I couldn't take it. "

"What did you do?"

"I cried. I laid down on the floor and I cried. I was already an outcast because I had a certain way of sending crows to the sky, and now, that I had killed somebody...I just wasn't the outcast. I was the crazy kid. The last thing I remember about that night, is my father taking me in his arms and placing me in a bathtub. TRYING to get the scent of blood off of my body. From that day, it seemed as if my mind could not tell right from wrong. I have tried so hard, Leslie, to seem like a sane person. I put on the same front every day of my life, trying to smile and be the perfect shrink. It's not easy. What is good in Gotham anymore, Miss Newton? Our city is so corrupted. Even Miss Dawes, might have a little evil in her. I have yet to evaluate her."

"Gotham may not be what it was, Crane. That's because pyschos like you are still loose on the streets."

"So you're still going to publish that article?"

"I-I have no choice."

Leslie ran from the gym and all the way to her apartment. She had totally forgotten it was five miles. She got back into her apartment and then changed into her nightclothes, she sat at her typewriter to type up all she had learned but then, she stopped.

"Can't help a sad story, Feldman."


	3. Chapter 3

Leslie was up half of the night and trying to think of a way to avoid Crane's name in her latest article. The next morning, she took the article to Mr.Feldman, who seemed nearly speechless.

"Finally, you've seen the light, Leslie." Mr.Feldman said.

"Don't get use to it, Feldman. This was a one-time thing. I have every intention of digging more dirt up on Crane. By next week, I'll have an entire expose."

"Leslie, can't you give it a rest? Let the police handle this. Don't get yourself too involved."

"Come on, Marv. When do I ever get too involved?"

"Remember your boyfriend?"

"I don't want to talk about Christopher. Not now."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Leslie left the office when Michael came up to her and handed her a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"Dunno. A guy came in and said it was from somebody who knew you and that was it."

Leslie unfolded the paper and read it to herself. Michael seemed concerned when Leslie's face began to pale.

"Leslie, what is it?" Michael asked.

"N-nothing. My rent is due, that's all. Listen, I left my notes at home. I'll be back in a second."

Leslie ran out of the office, when Michael saw that Leslie's notes were laying right on her desk. Leslie returned to her apartment and saw Crane sitting on the couch.

"Oh god, Crane. Do you ever quit?"

"Actually, I came to apologize."

"How did you get in here in the first place?"

"I had one of my colleagues deliver the notice while I drove over here and scaled the catwalk and climbed in through your window."

"In the real world, Crane that would classify as breaking and entering."

"True. However, I didn't steal anything and I didn't break your window."

"What do you want?"

"I told you. I came to apologize. I was incredibly selfish. I shouldn't have forced you into my car, I shouldn't have drove you down to my old school."

"It's okay. I was just being a pain in the ass. I guess it was my fault. I hope I didn't upset you."

"So do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"Your job."

"Crane, if you are asking if I feel forunate to have a job because everybody besides the DA are a bunch of deadbeats, then yes. If you are asking me if I enjoy ruining people's lives by making them look like the next pyscho, then no."

"If you don't enjoy it, then why do it?"

Leslie sighed and went into the kitchen.

"Do you want some coffee?" Leslie asked.

"Sure."

Leslie began brewing some coffee, Crane knew that Leslie was avoiding the question.

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

"Okay. I'll tell you."

Leslie poured the coffee into two seperate mugs and handed one of the mugs off to Crane, and then she joined him on the couch.

"I think it's true. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Since I got into journalism when I was fifteen. I've been on the paper for so long, I don't think I know how to do anything else."

"You could be a lawyer."

"Yeah. Get somebody's ass thrown in jail for money. What a way to earn a living."

"Don't you believe that those who are wrong should be jailed?"

"Well, my parents killer was wrong and he is still free!"

For a moment, there was silence. Leslie felt as though she was beginning to cry.

"Excuse me. I need to be alone for a second."

Leslie placed her coffee mug on a table and then left the apartment. She went to the roof of the apartment building and overlooked Gotham. She suddenly felt a coat being draped around her shoulders, she turned and saw Crane.

"It must be pretty cold out here. Winter is coming soon." Crane said.

"Go away, Crane. I don't want to talk to anyone."

"Not even a shrink?"

"When I said that my parents were killed by a drunk driver. I forgot to mention that he was put on trial. They let him go. I remember, even then, he looked at me and smiled. As if he knew he had gotten away with everything. How can justice be so corrupt sometimes? Then other times, it can be wonderful."

"How so?"

"Well, if it wasn't for the justice system. I would've never been placed with my Uncle. I thank God for that every day."

"I lost my parents when I was young, as well. It hurts. I'm not even sure if the pain goes away."

"How did they die?"

"They were killed in the courtroom. I went to trial for that boy I murdered. His parents got a bit upset and...Two gunshots and that was it."

"Do you ever miss them?"

"Every day. I try not to think about them, but what harm can it do?"

"Alot of harm. Don't you ever feel your heart aching? Didn't you ever wake up crying for your parents? Of course not. I gotta get back to the office."

"You're suggesting that I didn't love my parents? If so. Then you're wrong. You're dead wrong. They meant the world to me. They protected me when I couldn't protect myself."

"Well, sometimes they need to protect somebody else. They need to protect themselves."

Leslie began to cry and sat down. Crane placed a hand on her shoulder and then knelt at her side.

"I can see why your parents wanted to protect you." Crane said.

"Why?"

"Because they knew you were pretty."

"Pretty dumb?"

"I mean beautiful. Very, very beautiful."

Crane turned Leslie's head towards his face and then wiped her tears away. Suddenly, Leslie saw this different side of Crane. A sensitive side. Leslie, always falling victim to the sensitive, leaned closer towards Crane and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Don't be afraid of me, Leslie. Trust me."


End file.
